


Picking up the Pieces

by StarryNox



Series: Dedue Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gen, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), cw: suicidal ideation, outsiders club gets mentioned, the aftermath of gronder field, the beginnings of an AU where dedue joins the deer after gronder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNox/pseuds/StarryNox
Summary: After Dimitri is killed at the Battle at Gronder, Dedue must decide what to do.Dedue Week Day 6: AU
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro & Claude von Riegan, Dedue Molinaro & My Unit | Byleth, Mercedes von Matritz & Dedue Molinaro
Series: Dedue Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593397
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Picking up the Pieces

The Imperial horns blared for a retreat, and Dedue abandoned all attempts at stealth, crashing through the underbrush around Gronder Field in a search for His Highness, murmuring a quiet prayer to the God of War as he went. The prince’s lighter armor granted him better mobility in a fight. With his mind hellbent on revenge, he had long left Dedue behind him in order to advance on the Emperor herself, though not for a lack of trying to remain close on Dedue’s part. Dedue had little doubt that His Highness would not attempt to take advantage of what must have been the Emperor’s weakened state—why else would the Imperials have retreated, when they marched forward like an endless tide—yet he worried that such a move would be reckless, as so many of His Highness’s decisions in battle were these days. Dedue simply hoped that he would still have the strength to aid His Highness when he found him—the wounds he’d sustained from his own clashes with the Imperial army ached, and though his armor protected him from the most part, he had little doubt that he bore injuries he could not see.

At last, he sees it—the tell-tale black of His Highness’s armor and the royal blue of his cape, but as he shoves his way into the clearing he realizes he is too late. His prayers have gone unanswered, five spears sunk deep into his flesh. As Dedue sinks to his knees, there is a cry, loud and mournful, and it takes him a moment to realize that it is his own voice, crying out for His Highness, _Dimitri_ , until his throat grows hoarse.

There is a distinctly feminine gasp behind him, and he whirls, a hand on his axe even as he expects blonde hair and a pegasus. He holds no particular love for Ingrid, yet he would not wish her to see one of her oldest friends in such a state. But instead there is a wyvern and bright pink armor—Hilda, if he recalls correctly, though the academy seems so long ago. Her expression is…sadder than he would have expected, and she approaches him carefully, arms held up in a universal sign of peace.

“I’m sorry, Dedue,” she says, casting a glance at His Highness’s body. “He deserved…well, he deserved better than _that_.”

Dedue is not one to cry easily, hasn’t cried since the Day of Blood and Tears, but there is an unmistakeable lump in his throat, a burning in his eyes as he tries to choke out some kind of reply.

His Highness is gone, and his dreams for a restored Duscur along with him.

His Highness is gone, and Dedue has nothing left to live for.

The last thing he hears is Hilda shouting his name, and the world darkens around him. If this is his end…so be it.

He wakes to the smell of fresh linens and herbal poultices and the sight of familiar stone walls, seemingly untouched by time. Everything hurts, from his body to the light against his eyes, and he fruitlessly tries to lift an arm to block out the sun, only to find that the action requires more strength than he can muster. Still, the twitch of his arms calls attention to his newly-awoken state, and his vision is soon filled with mint green.

“How are you feeling?” asks the ghost from his past, but Dedue only blinks.

“You are dead,” he says at last, and he is surprised when the professor huffs out a sad sort of laugh.

“I was sleeping,” they correct, leaning back in their chair, and Dedue manages to follow their movements with his head. “Just as you were.”

“How long?”he rasps.

“A week.” They glance away from him, then, expression apologetic. “We wanted to wait for you, but…we couldn’t delay burying him for much longer.”

“I understand.”

“The others were really worried about you, you know,” they say, pouring a glass of water and setting it aside to try and help him into a sitting position. He grunts in pain at the movement, but waves off their concern with a small shake of his head. “We were able to save some of your comrades—Annette and Mercedes. Ashe has been with us, for a while. Petra, Claude, and Cyril have been checking on you, too.”

The water is cool against his parched throat, and he drinks greedily even as he hates every minute of it. He cannot help but wonder, not for the first time, why the gods saw it fit for him to live.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” the professor says, as if reading his thoughts. He is not sure he agrees, but doesn’t say so. Still, he flinches away when they move to touch him—to rest a hand upon his shoulder, perhaps, he does not know. What he _does_ know is that he is not ready to feel the weight of their relief for himself, though he cannot help but feel the slightest bit guilty as their expression falters. At last, they rise from the chair beside his bedside to call over a healer, taking their leave as Mercedes arrives with a few vials in her hands.

“Oh, Dedue,” she says softly, but not quite pityingly, as she tips concoctions down his throat and tends to his wounds with soothing white magic. “I’m so sorry.”

She folds him into her arms, and this time, he allows it.

His wounds still ache, but he is well enough to wander around the monastery onhis own, and so he picks his way through the graveyard ( past Captain Jeralt, whose grave he never did gather the courage to lay flowers upon as a student ) to the section where he has been told His Highness has been laid to rest, at least for now. Dedue kneels, setting down his own arrangement of flowers and tending, almost habitually, to the ones already there. He doesn’t bother to look up as footsteps crunch behind him, only casting a sidelong glance as Claude kneels down beside him.

“Dimitri and I…well, I’d be lying if I said we saw eye-to-eye on most things,” he muses, expression uncharacteristically somber as he traces the engraving on the headstone with his gaze. Or perhaps Dedue only thinks his expression uncharacteristic because the man before him is five years a stranger. “Even so, when I heard that the two of you were...when I heard what that Cornelia had done to you, I mourned. I would have liked to ally with him in all this. Maybe there was something I could’ve done for him.”

“His Highness hid his pain for a long time,” Dedue replies quietly. “The war was simply the last straw.” Claude hums thoughtfully.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do?” he asks.

“His Highness is gone,” Dedue says, brow furrowed. “His dream to create a better Faerghus is gone, too. Only his last wishes are left.” Revenge, he thinks, is better than having nothing at all. “I will go to Enbarr.”

“Alone?”

“If I must.” He knows Claude, knows that the man would avoid needless bloodshed if he can help it. But to fulfill His Highness’s last wishes, Edelgard must die. His old friend knows it, too, if the grimace upon his features is any indication.

“Talk to Teach, before you go,” Claude says, in the end. “They’ll want to know. But…there’s a place for you here, if you want it. With us.” He offers Dedue a smile, one that doesn’t meet his eyes not because it lacks sincerity, but because there is not enough happiness to be found in the situation. “It’ll be like old times. You, me, Petra, and Cyril.”

But it won’t be, and they both know it. There is no magic in all the world that can bring things back to the way they were before the war.

“Professor.” If there is one thing that has not changed, he supposes it would be his regard for the professor.

“I haven’t been your professor in years, Dedue.” He knows for a fact that the former Golden Deer continue to call them as such, but a glance at the weary slope of their shoulders makes him wonder if they find the title burdensome. And so, he inclines his head and tests their name on his tongue.

“Byleth, then.” They offer him tea, but he shakes his head. He does not intend to be here long. “I must go to Enbarr and carry out His Highness’s last wishes.” It is a far kinder way of saying that he must go and claim Edelgard’s head, but he is certain that they understand what he means.

“No.” There is a part of him which wants to remind them, dryly, that they are no longer his professor, and he is not beholden to their orders. “You’ve barely just recovered, Dedue. Have you even attempted to lift your axe, since Gronder? Moreover, how do you plan on making it to Enbarr, and where will you go once you’re there? I would not advise attempting to blend in with the crowd.”

…he concedes that they have a point, there. But he is not afraid to die.

“I am hardly the right person to discourage revenge, Dedue,” they say with a small shake of their head. “But we are preparing to march on Fort Merceus soon, and it is the only thing which stands between us and Enbarr. Come with us, if only because it increases the chances that you will live to cross blades with the Emperor.”

Later, they will take him aside and remind him that there is more for him to live for than a dead man’s quest for revenge. But right now, they tell him what he needs to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly?? Apologies this is short--I kind of ran out of steam. I do know I wanted a scene wherein Dedue and Felix have a tense conversation on the training grounds based around Felix's VW dialogue after the battle, but didn't know how to make it fit without writing...the rest of the route, really, and I definitely do not have the energy for that at the moment. I might try and flesh out more of this AU in the future, though!


End file.
